– Whitney
“How’d the meeting with the Boss go?” Harlow asks, with a playful smile on his face.
“I think it went well,” I reply, although I’m not really sure.
Usually I feel that I know Lance very well, but right now he was just… mysterious. I try not to let it ruin the joyful mood.
“That’s great,” Harlow says, beaming. His brown eyes sparkle and I can’t stop staring at him. “Do I have any more exercises to do today, to demonstrate my perfect fitness?”
He makes a fake muscle— which is still really hot— and I laugh.
“Nope, you’re all done,” I tell him, returning his smile. “And I will make an appointment to talk to Dr. Davis. I think he should know how well you’re doing, and maybe he’ll want your treatment team to meet again, to reassess.”
“Awesome!” He looks elated. “You mean I might get to have an even shorter treatment period than we originally planned?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
I don’t want to speak out of turn.
“I’m not really in charge of these things,” I continue. “But I don’t think the normal plan will be very beneficial to you since you’re already…”
“Abnormal?” he guesses.
“Very funny. There are definitely things we can work on, so don’t get too big of a head.” He winks at me as I continue. “There are some exercises and stretches I’ll give you, that you can do at home and that we’ll be working on here during sessions, to further improve your strength and balance and flexibility.”
“Yeah, I used to be so much more flexible,” he says, frowning. “I know I’m not completely back to 100% yet.”
It’s touching how concerned he is about any setbacks. Yet he’s still leaps and bounds ahead of most of my patients, and most people in general for that matter.
“But other than that, I don’t feel that you need that much work,” I tell him. “We’ll see if Dr. Davis and the team agrees with me though. Please don’t forget, I’m just an intern. I’m the first step and then everything has to be cleared above my head.”
“That’s great, though, thank you,” he says, clearly excited.
He has an air of exuberance about him right now that’s absolutely contagious. I know he’s happy to hear that he’s that much closer to being back with his unit. And I have to admit I have my own reasons for being happy.
I finally dumped Tony, which I was beginning to think I could never do. I feel that things at this internship can only go well for me now that I’m working with Harlow. Sure, he’s the one putting forth the effort and the spectacular performance, but I’m the physical therapist assigned to train him.
I know that the exercises I’ve come up with will only help Harlow improve even more, for which I’m sure I’ll get some credit. Maybe this will lead to a good paying job immediately after graduation.
And even more than that… here I am standing face to face with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And he’s looking at me, smiling at me… no, absolutely beaming at me as if he’s just as happy to be standing here with me as I am to be with him. That doesn’t exactly happen to me every day.
“Let’s go celebrate,” Harlow says, out of nowhere. “Right now.”
“What?”
“I’ve had a great day. You’ve had a great day. Life is looking up. This calls for happy hour. Or dinner. Or whatever. You pick.”
“I… have more work to do,” I tell him, which is true.
He’s my last patient of the day but I have to get my charts and notes done, and go over everything with Lance and perhaps some other supervisors.
“Fine,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll pick you up later. What time do you get off?”
“I…” I hesitate. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He looks crestfallen, which is how I feel.
So, without giving myself time to change my mind, I continue, “for you to pick me up here, I mean.”
“Oh. Of course. We’re probably not supposed to go out together. Even to celebrate your awesome physical therapy skills and my amazing progress, I mean.”
His face breaks into another smile: a devilish one, which is somehow even cuter than his exuberant one. I can’t help but smile back, even though I’m not really sure what the official policy is on… fraternizing, with patients. Lance had said he didn’t care, but he also said I could lose my internship.
I consider what this could mean. Did Lance mean just if I actually did it at work— such as making out with Harlow instead of counting his jumping jacks?, which does sound like a lot more fun— or did he mean if I even went for dinner with Harlow off the clock? Either way, it’s something I normally wouldn’t do no matter how hot the guy was, just to be safe.
But then again, I’m never around hot guys who are interested in me. So, it’s hard to know what I would do normally, except that right now, I know I just want to be near Harlow. And not in a physical therapy context.
“I can pick you up at your house,” he says. “Text me your address.”
I open my mouth, but he adds, “My phone number is in my file, I presume?”
Oh yes. Of course. I feel like an idiot.
“I could probably do five o’clock,” I tell him, mentally estimating the time it will take for me to finish my work and change into something much more attractive than my work uniform.
“Great, that gives us plenty of time before happy hour ends. But we can eat dinner too. Whatever you want.”
This time his smile is almost grateful, almost patient-like. Is this a date, or not? I can’t tell. And I can’t tell whether or not that’s a good or bad thing. I think it would be good for my mood— I’d love to go on a date with him— but really, really bad for my internship and the threat of losing it for “fraternizing” with patients.
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I tell Harlow.
“Don’t forget to text me your address. Or else I’ll have to drive all around Albuquerque guessing what kind of place you might live in.”
I laugh.
“Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”
How could I?
He’s so damn hot. And he’s picking me up at five. I can’t even believe my luck.